{"id":14734,"date":"2026-05-24T09:02:50","date_gmt":"2026-05-24T13:02:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/rickollie.com\/?p=14734"},"modified":"2026-05-24T09:04:51","modified_gmt":"2026-05-24T13:04:51","slug":"what-one-screenshot-revealed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/rickollie.com\/es\/2026\/05\/24\/what-one-screenshot-revealed\/","title":{"rendered":"What One Screenshot Revealed"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sometimes readers see us more clearly than we see ourselves.<\/em><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

A Message I Didn\u2019t Expect<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"Warm<\/a>
A quieter version of me. Still healing, still writing, still learning that hope can return even after years of silence.<\/strong><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

My friend Jan from the senior center messaged me recently after reading one of my latest blogs about our Lansing trip. I figured it would be a quick reaction about the story itself or maybe a comment about the photos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, she read between every line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She told me the piece was heartfelt and said the real power behind it wasn\u2019t just the story itself. It was the way my writing connected ordinary moments to something bigger emotionally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she said something I honestly didn\u2019t expect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She compared my writing to Mitch Albom. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not because of news and sports writing or our journalism backgrounds, although we both spent time around that world. What she meant was the deeper part of his work. The way he tells personal stories while weaving in themes about life, relationships, grief, hope, faith, second chances, and the emotional questions people quietly ask themselves after they finish reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The retired schoolteacher also said my writing reminded her of the way Mitch eventually moved beyond reporting scores and headlines and started writing about what it actually means to be human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That one caught me off guard. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Truthfully, back in my newspaper days I was mostly in straight reporter mode. Political writing, local features, deadlines, facts. I wasn\u2019t writing emotional reflections about life. There wasn\u2019t much room for that type of creativity in any of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then life happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And somewhere along the way, I stopped writing altogether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Years I Went Silent<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

When I told Jan I hadn\u2019t written anything since 1995 and didn\u2019t start this website until 2023, she couldn\u2019t believe it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Portrait<\/a>
Jan, my friend whose unexpected words helped me see my writing, my healing, and myself a little more clearly.<\/strong><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

My writing didn\u2019t disappear for a few years. It disappeared for nearly three decades. That single fact probably explains more about me than most people realize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For years I was surviving more than living. Somewhere between divorce, disappointments, work, routine, and just trying to make it through adulthood, I disconnected from parts of myself I didn\u2019t know how to reclaim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For almost 30 years, I convinced myself I had merely moved on from the keyboards, pens and notebooks as it just wasn’t meant to be. Looking back now, I think part of me had simply stopped believing my voice mattered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe that\u2019s why this blog eventually became something much bigger than I intended it to be. What started as a way to win someone\u2019s friendship back slowly turned into storytelling, then excavation. Every piece uncovered another emotion and memory I had buried years before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jan noticed all of it. Even things I didn\u2019t realize I was revealing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trying To Understand What I Felt<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

At one point in the conversation, Jan asked me something that has stayed with me since.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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